Hey. This is a sequel to 'The Rundown'. It picks up where the last movie ends. I hope you like it!

Chapter One – Billy's Control

'I'm going to kill you.' I growled, following that stupid kid back into my truck.

'Seriously Beck, I can't believe you pulled a stunt like that!'

'Travis? Be quiet.' I pulled the car away from the sparkling-only in LA-beautifully maintained sidewalk and swatted Travis' hand away from the volume control on the radio.

'I loved this song! Do you know how long it's been since I last listened to a decent radio station?'

He grabbed the volume knob and cranked up some kind of rap song. God, it was awful.

'So, I guess you can come back to my house until we sort something out. Billy is going to be after your ass now your back in the state.'

'I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain't one!' Yelled the twenty-three year old.

'Travis! Are you listening?'

'Hit me!'

I rammed my knuckles across the side of his head. I couldn't believe how short his attention span was. It was like dealing with a sixteen year old. Unfortunately along with the short term concentration, came the dramatics.

'Oww! Geez Beck. What the hell was that for?' He hollered, clutching his head.

'Listen then!' I shouted back.

'Wait, I like this bit.' He grinned, forgetting his injury and my order. H e turned up the song even louder.

'Travis!' I roared over the music, but there was no reaching him. He was lost in his own world, rapping along and sticking his head out the window. I looked at him, exasperated at his lack of concern about his father, his total belief that he could rap and the growing number of marks on my dashboard where his trainers tapped repeatedly off it. Oh God, why did I help him escape again? Was I out of my mind? Travis started drumming his index fingers on my shoulder. Yeah, I was out of it. So out of it I was actually driving towards my house with him still in my car.

Twenty minutes of rap, rock and pop later I swerved my car into the long drive-way leading up to my house. It had been so long since I'd been home. I unclipped my seatbelt and opened the car door. Stepping outside, I removed my shades and let the cool late afternoon breeze tug at my blue shirt.

'Beck, let me out!' Travis yanked at the car handle. I forgot child lock was still on from when I first arrived at Billy's house. For a few moments, I considered leaving him in the car while I went into the house. This thought must have played on my face, as Travis started banging on the window.

'Shh.' I hissed, opening the door. Travis toppled out of the car. I grabbed his denim jacket, hauled him up to his feet and led him into the house, waving politely at the old lady in the house next to mine.

'Let's grab a beer and watch a game!' Cried the young man, releasing himself from my grasp and opening the fridge.

'Are you crazy! We've got about four hours to pack and come up with a plan to get us both out of here before your father comes after us, full guns blazing.'

'You worry too much, big boy.' He teased, removing his jacket and throwing it carelessly over a chair.

'Where's your bathroom?'

I placed my hands on my hips and clenched my jaw. It was taking all my strength not to knock his ass on my kitchen floor and wipe off that stupid school boy grin of his.

'Second on the left at the top of the stairs.' I informed him.

'Thanks man.' He walked away, humming yet another tune.

The young man opened the bathroom and shut the door quickly behind him. He walked in front of the mirror and stared hard at his reflection. A thousand painful, childhood memories flashed through his mind as he thought about his dad once more. Seeing him had conjured up his not-too-nice past and as much as Travis didn't want to admit it, Billy scared him to death. He was absolutely terrified, fear was enveloping him inch by inch, but he refused to let it show. It was so ironic to be scared of one fifty-year-old man when he had just been running from a man twice his weight, escaped on a boat at gun point, eaten paralysing fruit and survived through a town been blown up. Oh God, he clutched his chest with his hand. His father always had a control over him. His panic attacks were rarer as he grew older, but they still came when he thought about Billy.

He gasped and convulsed, his knees shaking and finally buckling underneath him. He fell to the floor and tried desperately to breathe. Tears were forming in the corner of his creamy coffee coloured eyes.

'Breathe.' He panted. Spots were appearing in front of his eyes and his fingers were starting to tingle. Suddenly, the lack of air caused Travis to lose consciousness and he collapsed the rest of the way to the laminated floor - blackness inviting him.

Ok, we could pack some things and go back to the airport, grabbing a plane some place South again, I thought, pacing. We could head back to Brazil, hook up with Mariana. Nope. We both bothered her enough. Hmm, maybe travel to Europe. France? No good with the language though. Scotland? Too cold. Italy? Yeah, maybe. I did some Italian in school. Maybe even Portugal, Travis could speak fluently it seemed, although I really didn't trust him after last time. There's really no point in discussing this with him, I'm the brains in this partnership. Wait, hold it. Did I just say partnership? Scratch that. I'm just looking out for his sorry ass until I come up with a plan.

Bang! What the hell was that! What was he up to?

'Travis.' I growled and made for the stairs. Taking them two, three at a time, I rattled the bathroom door.

'What you doing in there?' I demanded. There was no response. 'Come on. This is no time to be messing around.' Silence. 'Travis! I'm going to give you to the count of three, and then I'm breaking that door down.' Nothing. 'One...Two...Three!' I reached for the door handle, assuming it would be locked and barrelled into it. Unfortunately it wasn't locked and I crashed through the door, into the bathroom and stumbled over something. Or should I say someone. There was Travis, sprawled on the floor, eyes closed and breathing quickly and raggedly.

'Travis?' I asked, kneeling beside him. I shook his shoulder gently and still doubted if this was for real. I felt his pulse which was quite weak and I unexpectedly had a surge of concern rise up into my throat. It was crazy that I was so concerned for a kid I hardly knew. I had felt like a protective older brother since we fled from his father. I couldn't explain it and I couldn't help it.

'Travis?' I tried again, this time placing my hand beneath his head and neck, raising him off the floor. His eyes didn't open.

'Come on. Work with me.' What the heck happened to him? Why did he collapse? Then it hit me. Billy Walker. Bastard. Seeing his father again must have been overpowering and obviously affected him deeply. I was so ignorant to his fear. I remembered the pause and hesitation before we went inside Billy's house when we first arrived in LA.

I gently picked him up, his head leaning on my shoulder lightly. I couldn't believe how easily I could walk with him. Billy had said he was thin, but I hadn't really paid attention to his weight before. I carried him into one of the guest rooms and laid him down in the middle of the king size bed. I removed his shoes and noticed his breathing had returned to normal. Thankfully. With one more glance at his sleeping form I left the room, leaving the door open in case he stirred.

I felt tense and worried. Not only did I have to come up with some sort of a plan, I now had to look after Travis mentally as well as physically. It seemed Billy Walker could abuse his son both ways and it felt like a cold blade in my gut. I felt anger and alive with fresh determination to protect Travis from his own blood. I wasn't going to abandon him after witnessing the damage that could be endured by the evil, conceited man. Travis apparently needed me and as much as I denied it, I was lonely and in need of a friend too. I realised what a sad day it had become when I admitted concern for Travis Walker.